


Years Later

by Maxine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Ignores cursed child, M/M, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 00:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16587581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxine/pseuds/Maxine
Summary: Albus/Scorpius is the main pairing here, but make no mistake — this story isn’t about them. It’s about Harry and Draco, and how it’s never too late to get to know someone. No matter how many decades have passed.





	Years Later

The first time Harry Potter met Scorpius Malfoy was when the boys were still young, around six-years-old, perhaps. James had disappeared down the street of Diagon Alley with Teddy a few minutes earlier, both too impatient to wait around while the temptation of visiting their Uncle George’s joke shop loomed in the air. Albus had remained with his father, his smaller hand clutching Harry’s larger one.

He was standing in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, admiring the new Firebolt that had just come out and answering the nonstop slew of questions that Al threw at him about it when suddenly there was a little blonde boy plastered up against the window they were looking into. Al instantly tightened his grip on his dad’s hand, eyes going owl-wide behind his glasses as he stared at the new boy. Harry blinked at him as well, before shooting a quick glance around the surrounding area to see if his parents were anywhere nearby. The boy couldn’t be any older than Al was; he shouldn’t be running around without supervision.

Then the boy turned sharp, grey, all-too-familiar eyes onto him, and Harry’s stomach gave a funny little jump.

“My dad is going to buy that for me,” the boy said, apropos of nothing. “I’m going to use it to play Quidditch for Slytherin when I go to Hogwarts. I’m going to make the team in my _first year_ and I’m going to be the youngest Seeker in _forever_. My dad told me it was possible if I put my mind to it so I decided it’s going to happen.” His gaze dropped to take in Albus, who quickly took a step back so that he bumped into Harry’s leg. “Are you going to play Quidditch? What house are you going to be in? Maybe you’ll be in Slytherin, too. You could be a Beater. Or a Chaser. Or the Keeper. But you can’t be the Seeker because _I’m_ going to be the Seeker and my dad says I’m to be the youngest one in years and years and _years_ and–”

“Nuh- _uh_ ,” Al burst out suddenly. “ _My_ dad was the youngest Seeker in a _century_ and you’re not going to be able to beat that, no one can!”

The boy’s eyes widened slightly. “Sure they can. If they’re good enough and practice hard enough and my dad says that he’ll work with me.” He turned back to the display window, pressing his nose up against it. “You know, when I’m big enough to get on a _real_ broom, that is. But that should be soon! I’m almost seven already.”

Al made a little gasping sound. “ _I’m_ almost seven!” he exclaimed, letting go of Harry’s hand and stepping closer to the other boy.

“Really?” The boy grinned at him. “So then we really can be on the house team together!”

Harry’s hand felt strangely empty and he was somewhat at a loss for words as he watched the entire exchange. Christ, the kid looked just like–

“What’s your name?” Albus asked eagerly.

“I’m Scorpius, Scorpius Malfoy.”

Yep. Harry hadn’t needed the confirmation, but there it was. Now that he thought about it, he could vaguely recall hearing that Malfoy had gotten married somewhere along the line.

Al grinned. “Nice to meet you, Scorpius! I’m Albus Severus Potter. But you can call me Al.”

Scorpius’ jaw dropped. “You’re – Potter? Is your dad–?” He glanced around Al at Harry, and his eyes widened even further as he suddenly recognized who Harry was.

“Er…hello,” Harry said, smiling at him. _Malfoy clone_ , his mind bleated at him. _Miniature Draco Malfoy clone!_

Scorpius made a strangled sound, and then suddenly he was clutching Al’s sleeve as though he needed the extra support to stay on his feet. “I have _eight_ of your chocolate frog cards!” he cried, practically bouncing up and down on his toes. “My dad keeps trying to nick them from me–” Harry snorted. “–but mum always gets them back. I have _you_ and Ronald Weasley and three of Hermione Granger-Weasley and–”

“That’s my aunt and uncle,” Al cut in proudly. He reached for Harry’s hand again, still beaming at Scorpius. “I see them all the time; I get to have dinner with them tonight! Maybe you can come.” He looked up at Harry. “Dad, can Scorpius come? Please, please, _please_?”

“Ah…” Harry looked around again. Seriously, where the hell was Malfoy? Harry had a hard time believing he’d be the sort to let his son out of his sight even for a second.

“Daaad!” Albus wheedled some more, and Harry sighed and dropped to his knee so he was at eye level with the other two.

“Are you here by yourself, Scorpius?” he asked.

“No,” Scorpius said, looking startled and flustered that Harry was directly speaking to him. “My dad’s here – somewhere.” He looked around and, as far as Harry could tell, noticed for the first time that Malfoy wasn’t actually nearby. “He was buying potions stuff – oh. I was supposed to wait for him.” Scorpius scuffed his toe against the ground. “I didn’t go _far_ ,” he said defensively, as though Harry had reprimanded him.

Luckily, Harry had been down this road before and had plenty of practice with his own children pulling disappearing acts in Diagon Alley. “Well, if Malfoy – er, your dad, that is – if he makes an educated guess, he’ll know to either look for you here or at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. We’ll wait with you until he shows up.”

“That’s my other uncle’s shop,” Al confided to Scorpius, but Scorpius was too busy staring at Harry in awe to hear him.

“Do you know my dad?” he asked excitedly.

Harry gave a soft laugh. “Do I ever,” he said. “We were in the same year at Hogwarts.”

“Really? Were you friends?”

“Well…” Harry hesitated, trying to figure out how best to describe his and Malfoy’s precarious relationship without being too insensitive, when suddenly the man in question came bursting through the crowd.

“Scorpius!” he was yelling frantically as he looked up and down the street. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again: “ _Scorpius!_ ”

“Dad!” Scorpius called, waving wildly at him. “Over here!”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the pure relief that washed over Draco’s face as he started towards them. “Scorpius,” he said raggedly, resting his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Don’t _do_ that, I thought I told you to wait–”

“Dad, look!” Scorpius interrupted, grinning and pointing at Harry, who slowly stood up again. “It’s Harry Potter! Dad, it’s _Harry Potter_.”

“What?” Draco’s eyes widened as he jerked around, and for the first time in fourteen years Harry found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. “Potter!”

“Malfoy,” Harry returned in a neutral tone.

Draco quickly schooled his face into a less gobsmacked expression. “I…see you’ve met my son.”

Harry nodded. “It was a pleasure. He’ll be in the same year as Albus, apparently.”

“Albus?” Draco repeated, his face scrunching up in confusion. Then he looked down and abruptly his expression went carefully blank again. “Good god, Potter, you’ve gone and cloned yourself.”

“Yeah, you’re one to talk,” Harry said dryly, and a reluctant smirk tugged at Draco’s mouth.

“Dad!” Scorpius piped up, tugging at the sleeve of Draco’s robe. “Albus invited me over for dinner!”

Draco glanced at him, and then raised an eyebrow at Harry. “Did he now?”

“Mm, only took about thirty seconds, too,” Harry replied.

“…Children,” Draco said, like that was all the explanation required.

Harry gave a helpless shrug. “What can you do?”

“Can I go, dad?” Scorpius asked.

“Yeah, dad, can he come?” said Albus.

“That’s…really up to Mr. Malfoy,” Harry hedged, giving the other man a look out of the corner of his eye. “This is kind of last minute, they might already have plans–”

“We do, at that,” Draco interrupted. “Maybe another time, Scorpius.”

“But _dad_ –”

“I said not today,” Draco said sharply, and Scorpius subsided, pouting down at the ground. Draco huffed. “Next time,” he promised, but Harry had a feeling it was an empty promise. Scorpius beamed up at him nonetheless, and Al perked up, as well. Draco shot a guarded look at Harry. “…Thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

“Oh. It was no problem,” Harry said. “I’ve another one who takes off all the time; I know what it’s like.”

“Two?” Draco asked, and Harry gave a sheepish shrug.

“Three, actually.”

Draco snorted. “Of course.”

“Speaking of…” Harry tugged at Al’s hand a little and grinned down at him. “We ought to be finding your brother, don’t you think? He and Teddy are probably fussing with your Uncle’s displays again, so you know I’ll be getting an earful.”

Al broke into peals of giggles. “Maybe he’ll try one of the wands that’ll turn him into a chicken again!”

“Maybe!” Harry said, laughing as well. He looked back at Draco. “Well, we’ll…see you around, I suppose. It was – good to see you?” It came out sounding like a question, which kind of made Harry want to hex himself.

Draco nodded once. “Likewise,” he said.

Harry bent down a bit so he could look Scorpius in the eye again. “Next time, Scorpius, alright? I’ll make sure to have a handful of signed chocolate frog cards for you.” He couldn’t help glancing up at Malfoy as he spoke, smirking just slightly.

Draco scowled back at him. “Oh, shut up,” he muttered, placing a hand on Scorpius’ back and leading him away.

Scorpius glanced back over his shoulder. “Next time, Albus!” he called, and Al nodded and waved back, grinning widely.

Next time, however, took a good five years to get there.

* * *

The day after Harry said goodbye to Al for the first time at Platform 9 ¾, he found himself staring, perplexed, at a hastily written letter that had come with the morning post. It wasn’t the fact that his son _had_ ended up sorting Slytherin that had his eyebrows drawing together, or even the fact that he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Al exude _quite_ this level of enthusiasm over something – it had been written after his first evening at Hogwarts, after all, how could he _not_ be drawn in by the excitement of being in the castle for the first time?

No, it was the name frequently sprinkled in amongst all the exclamation points that Harry was frowning at.

Not that he had any real problem with Scorpius Malfoy, or with him and Al becoming friends. In fact, Harry would be lying if he said he hadn’t expected it.

He just hadn’t thought it would happen so _quickly_.

Scorpius, it seemed, had sought Al out on the train. Al had written about this with great exuberance, telling Harry all about how he recognized the blonde boy from the Quidditch shop all those years ago, and did Harry remember, did he?? Did he remember how Scorpius had said they could play on the house team together, and wasn’t it exciting that now it could actually happen? Harry would have to come to all their games – and wear green for Slytherin, not red for that _other_ house – and there was an entirely _un_ subtle hint about possibly getting a new broom for Christmas, the same one that Scorpius had, buried in Al’s rambling, as well.

James had sent an owl, too, which was slightly surprising if only because midway through last year he had hit a phase where apparently it wasn’t cool to be writing to one’s parents. The tone of his letter was far more bewildered and almost apologetic – like he hadn’t actually thought Al would ever end up in a house that _wasn’t_ Gryffindor and was wondering, without actually saying as much, if it might partially be his fault for teasing him about it. His letter also mentioned Scorpius, though with more question marks than exclamation points and a distinct edge of ‘who the hell _is_ this kid?’ that he refrained from asking outright.

Harry sighed and rubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses.

He wondered if Malfoy had received a similar letter.

* * *

It took a good three months and about eight more letters before Draco’s last nerve was tested enough that he saw fit to barge into Harry’s office one cool, crisp morning in early December.

“Potter!” he barked out, throwing the door open so hard that it banged off the wall and startled Harry enough that he nearly swept an entire stack of Very Important Documents off his desk and onto the floor. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Harry looked up to see Draco brandishing a handful of parchment, and though he had a fairly good idea of what he was going on about, he decided to play dumb. “Meaning of _what_?” he asked, blinking wide eyes for a moment before frowning. “And what the hell are you doing, charging in here like that? You couldn’t have knocked? Or sent a bloody owl?”

Draco sniffed and lifted his chin. “I deemed the matter important enough to come talk to your sorry arse in person,” he said. Despite the bravado, he shot a vaguely sheepish glance over his shoulder and promptly scowled when he noticed all the people who had paused out in the hallway, clearly trying to listen in on their conversation. He slammed the door shut again and then stomped over to Harry’s desk. “How did this happen?” he demanded, spreading out his collection of letters on Harry’s desk. “ _Your son_ – and mine – _what_ is going on here?!”

Harry gave the letters a brief glance, and was amused to see that they appeared to contain the same amount of exclamation points as Al’s. “They’re friends, far as I can tell,” he said simply. “Honestly, Malfoy, it’s a little obvious, isn’t it?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Draco snapped. He threw himself into the chair across from Harry’s desk, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “ _How_?”

Harry sighed and tossed his quill aside so he could mirror Malfoy’s position. “How do you think?” he asked. “Jesus, Malfoy, they’re in the same house. What did you expect?”

“I expected all your lot to sort Gryffindor!” Draco exclaimed. “And it’s not as though they’re the only two in their year – but I couldn’t bloody well tell you a single other child’s name in their house because Scorpius talks about _nothing_ except your son. It’s all _Albus this_ and _Albus that_. And now Scorpius has detention this weekend and I’m sure _that’s_ because of Albus, as well!”

Harry frowned. He hadn’t heard about that one yet. “Look,” he said. “They knew each other going in, it’s only natural they strayed toward each other.”

Draco scoffed. “Oh, _knew each other going in_. Potter, they met for all of five minutes. And that was years ago!”

“You’d be surprised how big an impact a first impression can make,” Harry murmured. “Look at us, for instance.”

“…I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It was twenty-some-odd years ago, all I remember is that you were a right prick for an eleven-year-old and I didn’t like you. It stuck.”

“I was only trying to be polite,” Draco said, lifting his chin again. “How was I to know you didn’t have a bloody clue about anything I mentioned?”

“So, you _do_ know what I’m talking about,” Harry said, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.

Draco ignored him. “I’m not here to talk about us,” he said. “I want to know what you plan to do about _them_.”

“What I plan to do?” Harry gave an incredulous laugh. “I’m not going to do anything. They’re _friends_ , Malfoy, it’s not the end of the world.”

“But – _Potter_ ,” Draco said, looking slightly pained. “You know how important the friendships they make now are. They’ll stick with them for life!”

“They’re in the same house,” Harry said patiently. “Better to be friends than enemies, don’t you think? They’d be miserable otherwise.” He gave Malfoy a scrutinizing look. “Or are you worried you’re going to have to put up with me more now?” he asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Draco scowled. “That was somewhere at the top of my list, yes,” he bit out.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Harry leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the desk and rubbing at his temples. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s not like we have to be friends just because they are. We only need to be…well. Friend _ly_. When they’re around.”

“I don’t know how to be friendly with you, Potter,” Draco spat. “I still have to suppress an urge to hex your face whenever I see you.”

“...You’ve seen me all of twice since the war,” Harry said dryly.

“Exactly! And I acted with extraordinarily good behavior both times, but I don’t know how long I can keep that up!”

“This hissy fit is charming and all, but it seems a little extreme, even for you.”

“ _Hissy fit_ , Potter? This is not – I’m only–!” Draco waved his hand around angrily for a moment, and then all of a sudden he seemed to deflate. “…It’s just strange,” he finally said, slumping back in the chair and brooding. “Although I suppose it shouldn’t be. I _know_ things have changed, but sometimes I still find myself thrown right back to our schooldays.”

Harry made a noncommittal sound, but didn’t reply. He knew exactly how Malfoy felt, not that he wanted to admit it. “I should probably warn you,” he spoke up after a minute. “It’s pretty likely Al will invite Scorpius over to stay at some point during the holidays.”

Draco’s face twisted up briefly, but then he sighed and leaned forward, searching through the letters he’d left on Harry’s desk until he found the one he was looking for. “Scorpius beat him to it,” he said, shoving the letter at Harry. “He wants Albus to come stay at the manor for the New Year.”

“…At the manor?” Harry repeated warily, looking down at the boy’s neat, loopy penmanship. Al’s handwriting looked more like chicken scratch in comparison, something he’d regrettably gotten from his father. He glanced up at Draco again, just in time to see him bristle defensively.

“Yes,” he replied shortly. “Have you got some sort of problem with the manor?”

“You're seriously asking me that,” Harry said, unable to keep the incredulous tone out of his voice, and Draco scowled.

“It's hardly the same place it was back then. And it's not like you visited at the best of times.”

“ _Visited_? Malfoy, I was dragged there by Voldemort's bloody followers and tossed into your dungeon!”

The name had Draco cringing slightly, even all these years later. Though perhaps, Harry thought, attempting to give him the benefit of the doubt, it was more the reminder of what had happened.

An awkward beat ticked by before Draco let out a breath. “It's not the same,” he said again, softer this time. “I've made sure of that. There's no sign of – of _him_ , it's just our home now and it's where Scorpius grew up and I've never once put my son in danger.” He met Harry's eyes, his own gaze steeled and determined suddenly, as though having Albus over had somehow become something more important than a child's play date. “I wouldn't put your son in danger either.”

Harry stared back at him for a long moment, already knowing what he was going to say but finding himself searching Draco’s face anyway. There was some part of him that still balked at the idea of sending his son there, to a place where Hermione had been tortured and Dobby killed, to where Voldemort had lived for so many months, but that was all in the distant past now. No matter how much it didn’t feel like it sometimes. It was done and over and Draco was right – Malfoy Manor was now simply his family’s home.

“Right,” Harry said, and Draco let out another breath – a relieved one, this time. “Fine, then. I suppose we can arrange that.”

“Good.” Draco nodded and plowed onward, bullheadedly ignoring the tension that hung in the air surrounding them now. Harry was grateful for it, honestly. “I’ll owl with some dates, shall I? And I imagine you and Weasley – Ginevra? Will want to come round and inspect the place, as well.”

“It’s Ginny,” Harry said, slightly exasperated. “It’s literally always been Ginny, Malfoy, don’t be thick.”

“You say that as though I ever spoke to her in school. Are you coming round for an inspection or not?”

“Must it be an inspection? It could just be for tea.”

Draco looked vaguely like he had just swallowed a lemon. Harry tried not to look too amused by it. “Tea would be…fine. I’ll let Astoria know.”

“Great. Sounds like a plan, then.”

“Great,” Draco repeated dully. He gave Harry a narrow look. “Why do I suddenly feel like I’m going to be dealing with you for the rest of my life? I quite thought I was rid of you, Potter.”

“You’re just not that lucky, I guess,” Harry replied, but he felt the same way a bit. Like this was the start of something he wasn’t quite sure he was prepared for.

He had a feeling Al wasn’t going to be breaking off his friendship with Scorpius anytime soon.


End file.
